


Twin Thing

by Snickfic



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 06:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16948371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/pseuds/Snickfic
Summary: She feels what Luke feels.





	Twin Thing

Nell wakes up. It's still dark, and she's sticky-warm. She kicked off her comforter at some point, the blue one covered in yellow stars that she's had since she was ten. But she's nineteen now, and she's woken up like this a lot of times before. She lifts her fingers in front of her face just to know she can, to be sure which kind of late-night wakefulness this is.

Amelia Ashton snuffles softly in the upper bunk. They're in the same Indigenous Cultures class.

Heat curls in the bottom of Nell's stomach. She slides her hand inside her underwear and closes her eyes. She blocks out Amelia Ashton, the street light at the window, the voices vanishing down the hall. She pushes it all out of her mind. She shuts the door and turns the key so there is nothing and no one left but herself.

Herself and Luke, which is nearly the same thing.

She slides her finger between her folds. She is already sensitive, blood-hot. She thinks of Luke, wherever he is. Is he doing this with someone? Is he alone this time? It's been a month since he got in touch. She strokes herself and shudders, very quietly: no sound can reach her here, and no sound must get out.

Sometimes she just gets horny, like on her period, and she thinks about the guy Jimmy in bio with the dark fringe of eyelashes that make his eyes look huge. She thinks about sitting on him and riding him--she's never done anything like that, but she likes the idea of it. It _revs her engine_ , Theo might say. But when she wakes in the night like this, she never needs to think about any of that. She strokes herself, getting her fingers wet. Every touch gives her back twice what she puts in: a feedback loop. If joy shared is doubled, then this must be joy. 

It creeps up on her. One moment she's touching herself, lazy, unfocused, and the next she's on top of a wave, every nerve sparking as she crests down to the other side. She doesn't make a sound. She's had practice. She lies still, feeling the orgasm ripple through her pussy. (She doesn't have to giggle about that word anymore. She's in college now.)

When it's really over and all she is is a little wet between her legs—a problem for Future Nell—she rolls over and grabs her phone off the bedside table. She taps out a quick text, like always: ❤️❤️❤️. Then she closes her eyes.

In the morning she checks her phone first thing and finds the reply she was looking for. 

[From Luke]: ⭐️⭐️⭐️


End file.
